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“But how did you know that there was a battle station nearby?” Ventiin asked, intent on getting Marc to relate every detail of the battle.
Experience, Marc longed to say, and be done with it. Instead, he patiently explained that the size of type C Marauder ships and their primitive fuel could only last a few hours, and thus a swarm of C ships meant they had a base nearby. Taking out that base crippled the fleet and allowed the decimated Vestar forces to gain the upper hand.
Samantha was conversing nearby with a few women who wanted to know the details of her costume, a teen who hoped to be an engineer, and a man who knew the ‘entire’ history of Almedra.
Tradition, experience and practice, and you’ve got a lot to learn, she tried not to exclaim, as the women tried to offer suggestions for ‘upgrading’ her dress. The youth tried to lobby for a position on the Lumenara, and the historical know-it-all tried to insist that ‘Anselle’ meant ‘of royal birth’ when all it meant was ‘silver web’, coming from her ancestors’ occupation as silk weavers.
Samantha suppressed a laugh and patiently explained the history behind every detail of her outfit, gave the boy advice on how to practice for his profession, sent him to Marc, and corrected the man’s Almedran vocabulary.
At last, she had a few moments of peace and she watched the dancers. Someone tapped her shoulder. She thought it would be Marc, but before she could turn around, she was swept into the crowd. Bewildered, she looked up to see that it was no one she knew. She pulled away.
“Excuse me, but please ask first, then dance,” she corrected the youth, freeing her hands.
“Forgive me; I was afraid someone else would dance with you first. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Rad Ventiin.” He waited as though that meant as much as a plethora of roses in a crystal vase.
“Um. . . the governor’s son, I assume,” Samantha guessed, seeing that he wanted an answer. Rad looked pleased.
“You’re a smart girl! What do you know of me? I assume Father has told you something about me.”
“Absolutely nothing, actually,” Samantha sighed, looking for Marc.
Rad mistook the sigh as one of regret and instantly softened. He pulled her arm through his, much to her annoyance, and tugged her out of the pavilion and into a secluded garden. Seating her on a bench, and gently preventing her from leaving, he began to share his life story, his talents, and his achievements.
Samantha struggled not to fall asleep and restrained herself from shoving him into the nearest rosebush. He did remind her strangely of Medrhos before she had known who he was. He, too, was lonely and arrogant, adventurous, overly daring, and thought too highly of himself, Samantha noted.
Rad’s ‘achievements’ included nearly drowning, hunting and killing an entire pack of wolves on his own, and capturing several trespassing vessels single-handedly while almost blowing up the city. Supposedly he was the commander of the Maedrian fleet, but Samantha wasn’t sure how. From what she could tell, he was no one that anyone should follow – anyone in their right mind, at least.
But his baby sister had died, his fiancée had been murdered, and his best friend, a fellow member of the fleet, was shot down on a mission and drowned in the bay.
It seemed to Samantha that his daring and arrogance had been caused by guilt stemming from an unrealistic belief that he was responsible for those tragedies. She exhaled and tried to find something to say that might help him and, incidentally, free her from being stuck with him.
“Commander-”
“Rad,” he corrected her.
“Rad. I think your problem is that you believe you are responsible in some way for all those deaths. That feeling comes to even the most cautious of us. It’s unrealistic, and you know none of them would want you to feel or respond in this way,” she pointed out.
Briefly she thought of Marc.
“It’s affecting your whole life, Rad. Sometimes it’s hard to accept our innocence in tragedy. Relax; you’re fine.”
Rad stared at her. He blinked. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her back to the pavilion and up to his father, who was sitting on the edge of the fountain with his niece.
“Father! I’m going to marry her,” Rad announced, drawing a few amazed looks from those nearby.
Samantha’s jaw dropped. Of all the rushed incidents of anything - where was Marc this whole time? A hasty glance found that he was currently swarmed by a group of boys who wanted his tales of heroism, too.
There was an awkward silence as Ventiin watched, pausing his own chiding to see what Samantha might say.
She didn’t say anything. The fountain was opportunely placed, after all; she shut her mouth with a little smirk, and drove the heel of her boot into the back of Rad’s knee. He tumbled into the pool, scaring the fish within into a frenzy, and sat up drippingly furious.
“I’ll thank you again to ask first!” Samantha said dryly.
Ventiin looked at his spluttering son and shook his head, biting back a chuckle.
“I assure you that he needed that,” he said, turning to Samantha. “Don’t mind him, dear.” He looked behind her. “And here’s your true hero.”
Samantha glanced back and saw Marc standing there, his brow creased as he looked anxiously from Rad to Samantha. When he saw that she was hardly disturbed by Rad’s behavior, his eyes twinkled and he offered her a high five. Samantha caught his hand instead and taught him a dance that was like a wedding between a minuet and the mazurka. Everything spun past in a swirl of pastel rainbows, while the moon climbed higher to shed its light more brightly on the couples below, until the dancing ended for the evening.
Smiling, Marc drew Samantha aside and they walked down to the beach. The sand was heavy and damp, clinging to the hem of Samantha’s train even when she gathered it up, so she discarded it on a bench to retrieve on her return. She shook down her hair, too, for it was tumbling out of its curls already.
The dark cliff faces looked almost friendly at night as the pair crossed the sand and stood at the water’s edge.
“Oh, look!” Samantha gasped a moment later. The water was beginning to glow and sparkle with an aqua light. It began in patches until it spread along the beach and far out into the bay, even lighting the remains of the church tower all covered with flowers.
Samantha couldn’t resist; she kicked off her shoes and stepped in. The water was warm now, and the glow caught on the hem of her skirts as though it were beaded with turquoise.
“It must be phosphorescence from the crystals in the sunken mines,” Marc guessed, coming over and studying a handful of the seawater. “The radioactive ingredient must have been such that it died after a few decades or so of saltwater, and three hundred years’ time has eroded the crystals. They must coat the seabed now,” he observed.
Marc picked up a sparkling shell and pried it open. A tiny pearl lay nestled inside, not unlike the seed pearls on Aiyra’s ring.
“Talitha must have collected almost a hundred of these just for one ring,” he murmured. Samantha looked over his shoulder.
“Aiyra’s?”
Marc nodded. He flung the shell away and placed the pearl in Samantha’s hand, where it lay like a little silver moon. The captain did a double-take when he saw a silver flash on Samantha’s wrist. It curved along her arms and glinted beneath the high collar of her gown.
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“Moon scars!” Samantha said, noticing his expression. “It’s common among my people. The old legends say that the Almedran moon, Photar, was the source of the spider’s thread. Moonbeams falling to earth were gathered by the creatures and woven, strung across branches and fences for us to gather every morning. Every Almedran’s life was built around, and depended on silk; it kept our world economically stable and safe, and we found many life-saving methods of using it.”
“At last we realized God’s presence in nature; that its actions are from Him. But the one thing missing in our lives was patience, so He gave us a reminder of the spider’s patience and industry. It’s for perseverance, too, for a spider will rebuild her web no matter how many times it is broken.” She looked down at the silver lines that traced along her arms. “It usually shows when there is a flower moon or a harvest moon; but that depends on the planet.”
“But that’s the legend’s story,” Marc replied. “What really caused it? Do you know? Or is it natural?”
“I think it’s natural, though I don’t truly doubt the legend,” she replied. “All I know is that it often shows on my hands no matter what moon it is-”
“And that’s why you wear gloves so often!” Marc interjected.
Samantha nodded and finished, “As well as when I either have nearly forgotten God’s presence and need a reminder of Him or of strength; or when I know I’ve done right.”
“Which is it now? The type of moon, forgetfulness, or good actions?”
Samantha smiled and rubbed her arms.
“I think He’s happy with me for not arguing with Him about you.”
“Really, you’ve been arguing about me behind my back?” he teased. “Just for that-”
He put his hand in the shallow water and splashed her. She shrieked and ran, laughing, after causing him to stumble backwards into the water. Marc chased her and they ran up and down the shoreline until they were breathless with laughter. They dropped down on the sand.
Marc’s eyes wandered out to the tower on the cliffs, and thought of the ruins that lay beneath the bay. It was still eating at him, that he didn’t know the life which Talitha had been forced to live, didn’t know the place in which she had suffered, the place in which she had raised Aiyra.
“Let’s take one of those water speeders out; we’ll be able to see the ocean ruins quite clearly now. I want. . . to see what’s left of it.”
Samantha understood. Soon they were out on the water, following the waves. Marc brought the craft down on the water’s surface and let it drift. Below lay the tell-tale white stones and scattered bricks. Looking down, Samantha could almost see the city again as it had been, beautiful and ancient, but weary and sad, with tyrants, noblemen, peasants, and slaves.
“It’s strange to think that Aiyra once lived, worked, and walked down there!” she whispered.
“Yes. . . and in a sense, still is,” Marc muttered.
“Was, Captain. That was in the past; she’s here with us now, free and safe. Let’s not open Pandora’s box again by considering all of time to be accessible when it is not God’s Will. We all have to think that way, for the sake of preserving whatever sanity we possess,” she said with a little laugh.
Marc concurred and took the wheel again, wondering what every day had been like for his wife and daughter, every pain, every shadow of a smile, every instant of labor.
“I’d like to see the church tower Konstan and Aiyra told us about,” Samantha requested, pointing it out in the distance. “I’ll pick some of the sea-lavender and lilies for her.”
The craft skipped lightly over the water again, and Marc brought it as close to the tower as he could, the nose of the speeder bumping against the rock. Many of the rosy blossoms had closed for the night, but the white bay lilies and the lavender weren’t quite sleeping. Samantha leaned out to gather the blossoms and glanced down into the brightly lit waters just as Aiyra had done; but a wave rocked the boat and she lost her balance.
“Oh!”
Down she went with a gasp and the water closed over her head. It was a strange feeling, like swimming in an illumined hotel pool on a summer night, but there was no solid surface beneath her feet. Although her drenched gown was decidedly not buoyant, Samantha neglected to panic.
There was an ancient façade across the way, and its shadowy doorways might have been home to merchant’s shops, weaver’s homes, or bakeries. A crumbled fountain and a broken pillar told tales of ancient conversations at the well, and military ceremonies held around the eroded monument to an age-old king.
The waves swirled sea green, and for a split-second Samantha felt a chill stab her as she thought she saw swirling figures in doorways, in streets, the church and the gardens and the halls – Samantha almost shrieked aloud and realized that she was in the middle of drowning.
The next moment found her dumped in a heap in the bottom of the water speeder. Marc struck her back as she spit out the water she’d accidentally breathed in.
“Take it easy! Get all that water out of your lungs.”
“Couldn’t you have pulled me out a little quicker so I wouldn’t have to?” Samantha choked.
Marc looked confused.
“Quicker? You were only in for as long as it took me to lean over the side of the speeder and grab you.”
Samantha rubbed her head.
“Oh. . . it seemed like a minute.”
They both caught their breath and let their adrenalized hearts relax.
“I’m so sorry, Samantha!” Marc said at last. “I missed the memo on taking an unexpected swim. It must be the new fashion! I hear everyone’s doing it. Wait, I’ll do it myself.”
He slid in with a splash that soaked Samantha again. The engineer burst out laughing and splashed him back. Marc just grinned and rested his arms on the side of the speeder.
“Samantha, thank you for saying what you did about time. It reminded me of what Talitha said. . . that she’s not the one who needs me most. I thought she meant Aiyra; but Samantha, it’s you. And because of you, Samantha, I’m no longer tempted to break God’s rules and bring her back.”
He looked at her fondly. Samantha blushed and couldn’t think of anything to say in reply.
“Er, captain, weren’t we to discuss how we might help Aiyra?” she asked quickly.
“Argh!” said Marc, slapping his forehead. He winced as he splashed saltwater into his eyes. “With all the problems on the ship today, I didn’t get a chance to talk with Aiyra. She was going to tell me about something before she fell asleep last night. But why has she been hiding it?”
“She told me she didn’t want to worry you. At least, when it comes to the physical problems she’s been having.”
“Which are what?” Marc demanded.
Samantha briefly mentioned the headaches and nerve pain that she had known of.
“As for whatever else Aiyra might be hiding, I don’t know what it is or why she’s not telling you,” she sighed.
“Well, the surest way to find out is to let her know that we’re here to help her heal, not to keep ourselves from getting hurt,” Marc murmured. “She needs to not be afraid of worrying us.”
“Using the royal plural?” the engineer teased.
“Of course not! I mean you and I, silly,” he retorted.
“Oh, so suddenly it’s not ‘worrying all of us’, you, Konstan, and me; it’s just you and me.”
“Well. . . we kind of get stuck together most of the time,” Marc answered defensively. “And we’re the ones discussing the problem, so it makes sense-” he stopped when he realized that Samantha was biting back a smile.
“In other words,” she prompted.
“Uh, in other words, I consider you to be my best friend.”
“Mm, in other words you’ve already forgotten that you’ve already said what you’re trying to say. You’d best get in, captain,” she returned. “I think I saw a shark down there.”
“Sharks? We strongly disapprove of sharks right now,” Marc joked. He climbed in and sat next to her. “I just realized that I probably shouldn't have done that.”
“What, climb in? Did you want to get eaten? I haven’t seen a shark’s menu, but you’re probably on it. For all I know, he’s looking for a steak for his date. Probably even has sea roses and luminescent crystals on a table for two.”
Marc laughed at her.
“No, my watch,” he explained, examining it. “The last waterproof item I bought lasted two seconds flat after being in the rain.”
He turned to her with a smile. Reaching over, he pushed back her hair and gently signed her forehead with the cross.
“And yes, I know what you wanted me to say,” he whispered.
A scratching beep made them both jump.
“I guess there’s your answer about the watch!” Samantha exclaimed, hugging herself. The breeze made the warm water feel cold on her skin.
Konstan’s voice came over the speaker.
“Captain?”
“Marc here – go ahead, Konstan.”
There was an instant’s pause as they heard the boy draw a shaky breath.
“Come back to the ship. It’s Aiyra – she’s been hiding more than we thought.”
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